Invincible
by phishfood
Summary: Gender-bent!Anna. In the wake of winter's end, Anders knows he is not a hero, because he cannot be anything other than what he already is: a foolish young man desperately in love with his own sister. [Canon-verse post movie, Elsanna, rated M for sexual themes]
1. Chapter 1

Posted for a pal, who thinks Anders/Andrew/Andy is cute.

I do not own Frozen.

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><p>"You," Elsa purred, her pouty ruby lips so close to his ear, "are the most handsome man I've ever laid eyes on, and you're such a <em>good<em> little brother. You deserve a reward, don't you think?"

Anders could not speak. He was so overwhelmed by desire and other messy emotions that he feared, should he open his mouth, only unintelligible garbage would tumble out. He didn't need to worry about replying, though. His body was talking for him. His cock was so hard it strained against his pants, screaming for release, his chest heaving with every breath he took because his lungs felt small and inadequate. Shit – his sister had so much power over him. He was just so _weak_.

"It's alright," the temptress chuckled, nibbling his earlobe. Gods above, he could come from that alone. "I know what you want."

A cool and calculative hand trailed seductively down his chest, tweaking at one nipple through the cloth of his shirt as it went. Anders' hips bucked – there was nothing he could have possibly done to prevent it. Elsa laughed at him; he couldn't tell if it was endearing or mocking, and he didn't care, because right then, she palmed the rigid outline of his cock and squeezed.

"_Ugh_…!" He grunted, pleasure surging through him. Elsa tore his shirt open, buttons scattering everywhere and landing on the ground with sharp taps as they went. She lowered her mouth to the very nipple she'd pinched and worked her cool, wet tongue on it, finding rhythm to stroke his erection, and, _hell_, he was writhing like a wolf-dog bitch in heat, completely at Elsa's mercy.

If she would slip her hands below the waistband of his pants and really touch his aching dick, or suck it all the way to the base, or better yet, let him sheathe it inside her over and over until he exploded, he could die a happy man, a longing he'd carried like a terrible burden for so much time fulfilled.

"Andy," she murmured, the fabric of her icy dress against his bare skin making him shiver, "Andy, I love you…I want to offer you my maidenhead…will you take it?"

_Yes_! He wanted to shout._ Yes, I'll take it, I've wanted it for an age, I love you, too, so fucking much_! But his throat wouldn't work, the words refused to come out. She took his silence as rejection and began to pull away, and though he reached out desperately, she was fading like smoke.

"Andy…" She said, her voice brittle like frost on a winter's morning. "Andy…why don't you love me?"

Blinding light began to spill around her, the kind that hurt to look at, and she stared at him, so sad and vulnerable and desolate. She thought he didn't care. She had no idea of the depths he felt for her, and she was going to disappear without ever knowing.

"No!"

He yelled – and jerked up in bed, sunrise filtering in through curtains he'd forgotten to shut.

It had all been a dream. Of _course_ it was. The Elsa in his imagination did not exist, though some things did carry over to reality. Anders lifted his bed covers and gave his crotch a glance, a mighty erection, the tip sticky, poking through his sleeping pants. With a frustrated sigh, he flopped back onto his pillow and stared at the ceiling.

When would this end?

He'd been fantasising about Elsa since he was twelve. The first time he ever touched himself, his penis becoming stiff and begging for attention, was because of her. He'd not seen his sister in years, but caught a glimpse of her maturing form as she ghosted down a hallway, and he'd been absolutely amazed by what he saw.

She was tall, curvy, and _so_ pretty. Her dress was dark blue and flattering, and Anders had hidden behind a corner so she wouldn't see him, so he could watch her. His eyes had been drawn to her chest where she had a generous cleavage already, breasts that bounced as she walked, and Anders couldn't stop thinking about it long after she'd disappeared from his sight. It was later, when he was taking a bath, that it happened, weird pressure forming in his guts when he remembered Elsa and the way she'd looked, and the next thing he knew, he was gawking, wide-eyed, at the head of his cock as he'd never seen it, engorged and blushing, pointing right at him and telling him it wanted something. He was glad he was in the water for it, because the cum that spilled out of him when he'd finally figured out what to do would have scared him, otherwise.

He'd not told anyone. A month later he'd received the "talk" from his father about all things sexual, assured that though his hormones might seem demanding and endless right now, they'd calm down eventually – but that still hadn't happened yet, and it was six years since his first orgasm and he was still rubbing himself raw almost every night to try and ease the urges, and not a day went by that he didn't think about being between his sister's legs and all the different ways he could fuck her.

It was wrong, he knew that, but nothing he did made it go away. Emotions didn't come out in tears or cum, no matter how much somebody cried or masturbated. Time hadn't weakened his desires a single bit, and now,_ especially_ now that she was back in his life, it was worse than ever, because…

…he was in love with her.

He wanted more than just sex. He wanted kisses and warm embraces, he wanted marriage and romance and children, and he wanted to die in her arms an old and happy man, every moment of his life spent with her. It was easier when he was just a tormented and lonely young teen attracted to the breath-taking image of a distant sibling he didn't know, because he could excuse his sin with ignorance.

That was no longer an option, because Elsa was free from her self-imposed isolation and their rifts were being repaired. She wanted them to be brother and sister again, the way they were, and she'd suffered alone for so long that she deserved it – and a part of him hurt with guilt so badly, because he couldn't give it to her. Things would never be the same, and it was his fault.

Elsa was still that girl who could be coerced into sneaking food from the pantry at night and creeping out of their room to play with her magic, but Anders was no longer the mischievous little boy who frolicked in the snow and enjoyed getting up to trouble.

No, Anders was a man, a man who saw his life-mate in Elsa, who was not interested in being her brother but rather her husband, who pictured her naked and mewling in his mind's eye, but also wondered what she'd look like pregnant with his baby, who went out of his way to make her laugh because when she did, it ignited something warm in him, a man who indulged her impish nature even when it wasn't prudent and brought her chocolate and rubbed her feet and protected her from the harsh reality of politics, a man who would wrap her in blankets and carry her to bed when she fell asleep in the study, a man who loved her so much there was nothing he wouldn't do for her, a man who, in the face of her sweet, gentle and innocent soul and beautiful smile, was mere atoms stitched together by the single purpose of making Elsa happy.

He would do that for as long as she needed, even though he knew, in the end, it would kill him. His heart had thawed, but it was breaking, and there was no act of true love that could save him from this fate.

Elsa would never find out. This was a secret Anders intended to take to his grave, this twisted part of him that he buried beneath the persona of a cheerful and roguish prince nicknamed Andy who, the citizens spoke, was the most dedicated, brave and adoring little brother a woman could ever want.

The irony tasted bitter on his tongue.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Frozen.

So, I wasn't planning on writing more for this fic, but after the really awesome response I got and some tender encouragement from a very nice lady, I decided to keep going. Some inspiration came to me, actually, and now I have some ideas of where to go. Sorry for any mistakes.

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><p>Anders went to breakfast quite early, considering his track record.<p>

Of course, it helped that he'd woken at the crack of dawn from that terrible (wonderful, painful) dream, and had then been unable to fall back to sleep, even after he'd masturbated away that morning erection. He should have been disgusted with himself. He was a prince, not a mongrel or some horny drunkard in a tavern leering at women. He should have better control of himself, because he wasn't making his parents very proud like this – but then, there were so many things about him they'd be horrified to know, so what was a little extra on top?

He was only wearing a loose white shirt, buttons undone to his mid chest and the collar open wide, and breeches. Even his feet were bare, soles enjoying the texture of soft, plush carpet. The servants were used to seeing him like this, as he'd always been lax about dress code and etiquette, so they barely batted an eyelid when he slumped into a seat at the big oak table.

"Good morning, Master Anders," a young maid said as she settled a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice near his elbow. He was rubbing his palms across his face and curling his fingers into his short, bedraggled auburn hair, so he missed the way her eyes coasted up and down his form in a deliberate way, and how she was surreptitiously scolded by another, older lady, ducking her head to hide her pink cheeks.

"Morning," he replied, faking a yawn. There was no need for anyone to think he'd been awake for some time for any reason, because that wasn't like Prince Andy.

The food smelled really good, though, and it wasn't hard to dredge up his usual enthusiasm for it. There were pancakes, bacon, eggs, sausages, toast, fried tomatoes, pots of jam and marmalade and honey and thick, creamy butter, all of it fresh and whipped up by the cooks. Anders' stomach growled, and he quickly filled a plate and began to eat. Not too long after that, Elsa appeared in the dining hall.

She was wearing a modest deep blue robe over her night gown and had slippers on her feet. Her hair was down and messy, like long blonde waterfalls tumbling over her shoulders. Her bangs were in her face, and she absently pushed at them. Her eyes were just about open, and she was politely covering her mouth with a dainty hand when she yawned. She was breath-taking. Anders realised he was staring at her dazedly with a half-eaten piece of toast hovering in front of his mouth and hurriedly stuffed it behind his teeth, but…_wow_. His heart was jackhammering in his chest. He'd never seen her like this before, since he tended to rise so late and Elsa was normally put together by then.

Gods above, what he wouldn't give to wake up to her every day. She was just so sexy and cute all the time, it was unreal. He'd do anything to have the honour of brushing that hair aside as soon as he woke in the mornings and settle gentle, delicate kisses along the slope of her neck and along her strong, feminine jaw to hear her giggle, because he knew she would. She was ticklish. They'd play in the sheets, make a little love, and he'd bring her breakfast in bed and feed it to her, if she'd let him. Then he'd kiss her sweetly and tell her how much he loved her, and they'd go about their day however it was to be spent, apart or together; either way, the sunset would reunite them and they'd spend the evening doing whatever she wanted, whether that was reading or snuggling or writhing together in the throes of fiery, passionate sex on the bear skin rug in front of the hearth in the library. He'd take her to bed when she grew tired and tuck her in, curling around her, and in the morning it would all begin again.

Suddenly, something in him ached, a lonely pang resonating from deep in his soul, and his appetite seemed to have wandered off, but he forced himself to keep at the food because, again, Prince Andy did not leave a meal unfinished.

"Good morning, everyone," Elsa mumbled to a chorus of 'good morning, your majesty'. Once upon a time, she'd have been so paranoid about the uncouth way she was acting, but she had finally let everything go and decided to be the person she truly was inside. It was really liberating to see because of how _healthy_ she had become, physically and mentally.

She made her way down the table, pausing when she spotted her brother working on some fluffy, peppered eggs, and Anders was amused when she blinked a few times as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. He raised a hand and wiggled his fingers at her, grinning, and his heart seized when a slow, sleepy, delighted smile spread across her lips until it was almost ear to ear. She settled into a chair next to him, accepting the glass of orange juice he passed her, since he knew how much she liked it so it would've been the first thing she reached for.

"Hi," she said, her voice husky from disuse, and Anders pretended not to feel the shiver that travelled along his spine. "I'm a little surprised to see you this early. I thought I was dreaming."

'Do you dream about me often?' He wanted to say, but curbed his tongue. That would not be appropriate in any setting, no matter how much he wanted to know. "Yeah, shocking, isn't it?" he managed instead, pulling up that goofy grin he was known for as he helped her load her plate with food. Privately, he decided that even though it would be torture, he might start getting up early all the time from now on.

"It's nice," she replied warmly, placing a cool hand on his and squeezing, and nothing could have stopped him from rubbing her tiny knuckles with his thumb and staring into her huge blue eyes as his grin melted into an affectionate smile. The urge to kiss her was so powerful that he didn't know how he overcame it but it left him reeling, tingling where she'd touched him, blood boiling in his veins. It was so difficult just being around her and yet at the same time, it made him feel so good. What a contradiction.

They ate in companionable silence after that. Anders cleaned his plate and then watched Elsa's table manners, feeling very much like a barbarian next to her. Her delicate hands held her utensils with precision, and she would cut off small pieces of what she wanted and chew them slowly before sipping at her juice. It was all very endearing.

"I haven't got anything pressing that needs to be done until this afternoon, so I was wondering…" she said when she was finished, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin. Servants were coming in to clear the table, so they had to lean in closer to speak. Anders could smell her sweet breath as it washed, warm, over his face, a pink tongue swiping out to wet her lips. He burned, remembering them in his dream, ashamed of the way his cock twitched in his pants. "Do you wanna build a snowman?"

She was smiling cheekily, a playful spark in her eyes now that she'd regained her senses and the lethargy had abated. Her impishness was adorable and he could see she was flexing her fingers, which meant she wanted to let her powers loose for a while. The diplomat in him, bred and trained both, said she should be spending her free hours looking over legislations and updating laws, stretching olive branches here and there to make up for the loss of trade from Weselton, but the brother in him wanted to take her as far away from politics and work as possible. Sometimes it stressed her out so much she cried, and he hated that. She was a fair and just Queen, but she struggled, likely as a result of spending so long in her room, and the anger he felt at his dead parents for that was staggering. Damn that stupid law that said the eldest must take the crown. He wished he could relieve her of its burden, but all he could do was carry his own weight and be a good brother.

'But I'm not a good brother,' he thought with poisonous irony, 'I am the worst brother there ever was.'

"Yeah," he said anyway, "of course I wanna build a snowman. I just gotta get dressed first."

"Oh, right," she said. Her eyes caught, then, on his chest where his shirt was open as if she'd noticed it for the first time, and Anders watched a curious, pale bit of blush come over her cheeks as she averted her gaze. "Well, I have to dress, too, so…meet you in the east wing courtyard in fifteen minutes?"

"Okay."

She smiled again, wide enough that he could see most of her teeth, and he felt the childish excitement radiating from her, and it was infectious – her powers were amazing and fun, after all. His belly bubbled with it, and they both stood, sneaking glances at each other as they headed their separate ways to their rooms to dress. A terrible brother he may be, but Elsa was happy, so at least he was doing something right.


End file.
